


Human Phrase Book

by ice_hot_13



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 19:37:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ice_hot_13/pseuds/ice_hot_13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bee's never understood all the phrases in the human language. It just made sense that all the perplexing words could explain something so confusing. (holo!Bee) (written ages ago, posted for archiving purposes)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tongue-Tied

Maybe he just wasn't doing it right.

There was bound to be some logical explanation for why he just wasn't reaching Sam. There was logic in everything else in the world, so, naturally- well, logically- there shoudd have been logic here. There had to be an explanation. Of course, there was _that_ one, but Bee truly didn't want to think about that.

At the moment, Sam was lying on his bed, making pathetic whining sounds and resting his head on an open textbook. He'd been studying for the past three hours, and apparantly, the dense nature of the material was taking its toll on him. Bee wondered why Sam wasn't just working at his desk, the designated study spot. Bee was sitting in Sam's desk chair, tilting back and looking at the bed a few feet away.

"Bee?" Sam's voice was muffled against the textbook. "Can I ask you a question?"

That was the singularly most dangerous question Bee had ever heard.

"Sure..." Some of the most creative had included bizarre questions about the Bots' holo program, but all it had taken to get rid of those was one far-too detailed answer about why certain Bot couples _really_ liked the holo program to get Sam to stop asking.

"If I begged someone to shoot me right now, would I still be able to die?" Bee heaved a sigh at that.

"Diplomatic relations are that bad to study?"

"Would I?" Sam persisted. Bee swiped a tennis ball off the desk and threw it at Sam.

"Yes, you would still die. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news."

Another cause of constant questioning was Sam's new mortality. It turned out that coming back to life didn't happen without an intervention in his normal lifespan by otherworldly forces. It hadn't been the medic's lifesaving techniques that had brought him back to life, it had been a fragment of Optimus's spark that had brought Sam back. It had reacted to the Matrix dust; its creators had posessed unheard of foresight, typical of the Autobots, and designed it to react with the nearest spark in the case of a dire emergency.

Thinking of the details made Bee's head spin, but it was something like that. Whatever had happened, a spark had fused with Sam's heart, and he had the same lifespan as the Bots did. Human body, Ratchet had explained for them when all the Bots stared at him after his technical decription, Bot insides.

Despite that, Bee still felt like it was hopeless.

He was just going to be rejected for that much longer.

"How's your thing going?" Sam called over. Bee blinked.

"What thing?"

"You were reading." There was a distinct tone of amusement in Sam's voice. "Forget already?"

"I... oops." Bee had, a few minutes ago, picked up some book of Sam's, and had, a few mintues after that, tossed it aside. "I didn't understand all the words."

"You're like, fluent in English. It's practically your first language."

"Yeah, in literal English" Bee pouted, "Some of these words make no sense whatsoever."

"Like?"

"Like," Bee huffed, glaring at hte book he'd tossed facedown on the desk some time ago, "who the hell cares when pigs fly? They won't, ever. So why talk about them?"

"It's a phrase" Sam tried to keep the smirk out of his voice, "it means... it's impossible."

"Then why not just _say_ that? Is it _impossible_ to be straightforward? You dont have to say, 'oh, maybe when pigs fly', you can just say, 'no, it'll never, ever happen, give up'!" He crossed his arms over his chest as Sam laughed. It was almost impossible for Bee to hide just how much he loved that laugh- but he'd been getting better at it.

"That sounds a little harsh, Bee."

"Better than flying farm animals."

Sam laughed, getting up and shutting his book.

"Done studying?"

"Yeah, I can't really think today." Sam tossed the heavy book aside, sighing.

"If a date with Mikaela can't get you to be in your happy study place, nothing can." Bee didn't miss the look on Sam's face, something like quick hesitance. "What?"

"About that date..." Sam flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "I was gonna tell you about it..."

"Yeah?"

Bee felt bad, but he still crossed his fingers and hoped for the outcome he wanted.

"We talked... and... we broke up. It just wasn't... wasn't working." Sam lifted his head to look over at Bee, "I don't think it was a coincidence that I told her about the spark thing today, either."

"I..." _sad,_ Bee reminded himself, _be sad. Sympathetic at least,_ "I'm sorry to hear that." Primus, it even sounded too-measured-out to him.

Sam just looked at him and laughed.

"No you're not. You hated Mikaela."

Bee blushed a dark scarlett at that. There was no human reaction he hated more. Bots weren't this transparent with their emotions.

"I mean.... I was happy you were happy."

"But you hated her anyways" Sam shook his head, grin on his face, "It's okay. I just think it's funny."

"It wasn't my fault. Or hers, technically. I was-" Bee shut down that sentence before he said what he was thinking, which wasn't something he wanted to admit.

"You were what?" Sam arched an eyebrow. Bee blushed darker. "You may not realize this, but I can tell you're not telling me something."

"I was, umm..." Bee bit his lip, making a face, "I don't remember."

"Liar." Sam snorted. "You know you can't hide anything from me."

"That's not true!" Bee protested. (The irony killed him. There was so much he was hiding), "I can't hide anything from anybody else, either. So it's not just you."

"True..." Sam propped himself up on one elbow to look at Bee. "You were _saying?"_ he prompted impatiently. Bee looked down.

"Nothing. I forgot. Nothing."

"Okaaaay" Sam lay back down, "whenever you're ready."

That day, Bee was sure, would not come for a long time.

He didn't exactly want to tell Sam he'd been jealous.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Don't tell me they're at it again?" Bee hopped up onto a stool to join the other Bots. The special opps team never failed to choose a bar for their choice of guys' night out with the Bots. The majority of them liked hanging out at the bar beacuse of how entertaining it got.

The three left at the table were collectively stunningly attractive. They'd spent endless time perfecting their holo programs and altering to their specific likes. Sideswipe had steely grey eyes and dark red hair- he apparantly couldn't be bothered with human qualities like normal hair colour- and looked like some sort of extra edgy model. Ironhide was muscular, brunette and blue-eyed like he was the very posterboy for the colour. His counterpart Jazz had messy brown hair, and a lean, lithe body he had sprawled over his chair like he was just inviting people to try and hit on him, even though it was common knowledge that he really couldn't be brought down to _their_ level, no, not even in their dreams. Bee always felt out of place near them. He'd been told his holo was attractive, with the tousled brown hair and deep amber eyes, tan skin and white smile, but he felt... outdone. The other Bots were beyond him.

Sideswipe just looked at Bee.

"What do you _think?"_ He gestured to the array of empty glasses, "Ratchet deactivated the program that let them get drunk, but they're determined to somehow overload it into reactivation." True to his word, Skids and Mudflap were up at the bar, irritating the bartender. Sunstreaker was with them, their designated babysitter. (How the twins hated that job title). "Some Bots shouldn't be allowed to have holos, in my opinion."

"More like everyone's opinion." Ironhide added, grinning at how the bartender snapped at the twins with a towel and told them he didn't know how the hell they weren't drunk, but they should have been. "I had to force Jazz not to match them drink for drink."

"It's not _my_ fault my program ain't disabled" Jazz grumbled, clearly completely sober and not liking it, "little brats can still rub it in my face that I've had two and they've had sixteen."

"They're _cheating,_ so it doesn't matter." Ironhide reminded him, and Jazz just huffed out a breath and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Fragging little monsters..."

"Maybe we _should_ let you get drunk" Ironhide rolled his eyes, "you'd be more pleasant."

"Aren't you suppsoed to like me?" Jazz readjusted his sunglasses, huffing out a breath. Bee couldn't see his eyes- never could- but would guess that Jazz was glaring at Ironhide.

"Yeah.... but do I have to all the time?" Ironhide grinned to let Jazz know he was kidding. Sideswipe sighed at this.

"I'm gonna go make sure the bartender doesn't beat the twins to a pulp" he hopped off his stool and crossed the bar, leaving only Bee, Ironhide and Jazz. It soon became clear that he couldn't really be bothered as to whether the twins ended up as pulp or not. He was more occupied with slipping an arm around Sunstreaker's waist, murmuring something in his ear and ducking his head to kiss along Sunstreaker's neck. They weren't twins, that had been common knowledge for centuries. The first time Ratchet had caught them kissing in a corridor, one or the other had decided to attempt inducing spark meltdown and said they were twins; the designation had stuck, if only to make Ratchet glare every time he heard it.

Bee started frantically going through excuses in his mind, wanting to find some, any excuse, before Ironhide said, in that tone he had-

"So." Primus, but Bee hated that tone of his. It never failed to lead into discussing something he needed to talk about, but would really rather forget. "Sam." Bee was able to calm down for a fraction of a second; Ironhide knew nothing, no one did.

"You plannin' on tellin' him you got the hots for him?" Jazz. Bee practically died. Ironhide just laughed.

"You think we don't know." The look on his face was one of pure amusement, and made Bee sink further into his sulk.

"I- um-" Bee couldn't quite string a sentence together, suddenly feeling much too hot and uncomfortable, "I- he-"

"He still with that chick?" Jazz hadn't liked her much; something about a comment of hers about Porches and inferiority.

"No. Broke up last night."

"And you still haven't told him?" Ironhide may have been staring- nearly glaring- at Bee, but he was still able to catch Jazz's wrist as he tried to steal Ironhide's drink. "Primus, Bee, it's been over twelve hours!"

"B'sides," Jazz added cheerily, "I doubt he liked her much anyays."

"Because she hated Porsches, right?" Ironhide edged his glass further away from Jazz. "I swear to Primus, you can be so insecure..."

"No, more like cuz he's gay. And who you callin' insecure?!"

Bee spluttered at that. "You didn't tell me that!"

"We-ell, we assumed it was obvious." Ironhide shrugged a shoulder. "Not my fault your phermone reader sucks."

"But- but-" He would have been less surprised if he really _had_ seen a pig flying through the sky on white wings. Primus, compared to this, that would have been run-of-the-mill.

"So you've got no excuse then" Ironhide's contribution was entirely unhelpful, however he had intended it to be, "go get him."

"It's not that easy!" Bee protested, tossing his hands up into the air. "It's not!"

From somewhere behind them, there was the shattering of glass, wild laughter, and loud cursing.

"Man, don't talk to me about not easy" Ironhide snorted, "you want impossible, it's him" He gestured to Jazz. Jazz flipped his dark hair out of his eyes and sent a surly look at Ironhide.

"An' what did I do?"

"You had to be all-but screamed at to get the message, Jazzy."

"Not my fault"

"That you're denser'n a brick wall?"

"That I'm a challenge." He gave Ironhide a smug grin. "You know you liked winning after a good fight."

"That doesn't mean you should have made me fight for you" Ironhide rolled his eyes, "Beacuse, really, there kind of was no competition." Neither noticed Bee sigh and slip off his stool to go find entertainment elsewhere.

"Now you're sayin' I'm not desirable" Jazz pretended to be offended, crossing his arms and shooting Ironhide a hard glare. "Let's see how undesirable I am to you, why don't we."

"Okay" Ironhide failed at keeping away a grin, "Try me. You can't do it."

Jazz could never, ever resist a competition.

"Watch me." He slid off his chair and onto Ironhide's lap to settle down, doing so with a fair amount of squirming and hip grinding. Ironhide refused to show any reaction, though, and not beacuse Jazz was the slightest bit undesirable- the longer he pretended not to care, the more Jazz would do.

And Ironhide loved playing with that competitive streak.

Jazz scowled at the lack of reply; Ironhide could almost see gears turning behind his eyes- well, imagine, anyways- see levels being taken to a burning hotness. Jazz slipped his hands up under Ironhide's shirt, tracing designs onto the hot skin. As he did so, he leaned forward to press a kiss to Ironhide's neck, adding bites in between kisses when he didn't get the reaction he sought immediately. Ironhide nearly gave in when Jazz started muttering curses in between kisses and bites, unaware that his sullen nuzzling and kissing was about the hottest thing Ironhide had ever seen or felt. Jazz tilted his head to get his hair out of his eyes, fixing Ironhide with a sulky look before ducking his head again to lay kitten licks along his neck, and Ironhide found it nearly impossible not to shiver with delight, not to kiss Jazz back and beg for more. He could wait, though. Jazz only got better with patience. And Jazz, thankfully, was starting to get irritated. He shifted around to face Ironhide, one knee beside Ironhide's leg on the chair, the other slid up towards Ironhide's crotch.

Ironhide had to admit, he enjoed the thought that the other people at this corner of the bar were getting a good show. Secluded it may have been, but there were always two or three innocent bystanders.

Jazz was growling to himself in irritation. He pressed against the growing heat of Ironhide's crotch, kisses turning fervent and biting as his frustration mounted higher. Ironhide feigned indifference, glancing over at the other side of the bar in time to see SIdeswipe smack one of the twins upside the head, then reaching around Sunstreaker to punch the other in the shoulder. He watched for longer than he'd meant to, seeing as Bee was attempting to talk Sideswipe out of strangling Skids, and it was damn entertaining. The bartended was edging away from the fighting Bots.

Jazz's heartbroken little moan made Ironhide's attention snap back. His lover was staring at him with a wholly miserable look on his face. Ironhide swore to Primus Jazz was tearful and sniffling, and hell if he knew whether Jazz was acting or really hurt. This, Ironhide recalled too late- as always- was the danger of toying with Jazz too much. The Bot tended to take everything- _everything-_ intensely seriously. Great sense of humor normally- abslutely none concerning his own spark. He'd worked too hard to get Ironhide to realize what was going on and get what he wanted. And Ironhide had accidentaly let play go on for a moment too long, and Jazz was devastated to see he'd failed to keep his own lover's interest, let alone get it in the first place. One thing Jazz would never be able to forgive himself for would be losing Ironhide; Ironhide kept telling himself he really should stop playing with Jazz like this. One of these days, Jazz was going to have a mental breakdown. Ironhide never knew when Jazz was playing it up and when he was truly offended.

"Jazz" Ironhide couldn't help the slight exasperatoni, but it just made Jazz hang his head, "Oh, come on, Jazz. You don't think you're really that resistable?" Jazz just made some interpret-at-will mumble. "Well," Ironhide smiled, "You're not resistable. At all." Jazz made a loose gesture with his hand, shrugging in silence. "Honest, Jazzy." He pulled Jazz to him and kissed him hard, Jazz moaning against his lips in relieved delight. "I've just gotten good at pretending you aren't the hottest thing in the universe. It makes you go farther."

"Yeah, well" Jazz ran his hands over Ironhide again, absolutely incapable of hiding a smile when Ironhide couldn't help a moan at that, "you don't have'ta be _that_ good"

"Do you know yourself at all?" Ironhide allowed himself a quick glance at that long, lean body before him, "beacuse if you did, you'd know you're irresistable." Jazz made that deep purring sound- like a perfectly tuned Porche engine, really- and kissed him.

"Want you. Know that?" he gave Ironhide a wickedly devilish smile, "this why you wouldn't let me drink?"

"I like you when you're able to think clearly" Ironhide skimmed his hands over Jazz's enviable form, "beacuse you're just so much more creative that way."

"Yeah? I'll show you how creative I can be."

Over at the bar, there was the sound of all the glasses that had been in the upper wineglass rack raining down on the ground and an enraged howl, but neither Jazz nor Ironhide noticed a thing.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Bee hated the humans' language sometimes, and not just beacuse the words tripped him up. It was beacuse they made no Primus-damned sense, no matter how many times his overthinking mind reprocessed and reanalyzed and reexamined them. He was aware he was only reading beacuse he was avoiding talking to Sam, but it still irritated him anyayws.

_Tongue-tied._

That had to be the stuipidest word he'd ever heard. It wasn't only physically impossible it was- well, it was a physical impossibility, he scowled down at the page, and that was enough for him to want to damn it to hell and back many times over.

"Bee?" Sam's voice right behind him made him jump. "You okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" he sunk further into the couch cushions, glaring at the page. "I'm just..."

"Snarling at a book?" Sam's hands rested on Bee's shoulders as he leaned forward to read. "What exactly did it do?"

"Confused me" Bee mumbled darkly. He shut it and tossed it onto the couch beside him with a sulky little growl. Sam laughed.

"You are so weird." He wandered off across the small living room; Bee missed the feel of Sam's hands on him. "And speaking of you and being weird," Sam added, leaning back around hte doorway into the kitchen, looking in at Bee, "what were you saying this morning? About Mikaela?"

"I, um..." Bee struggled to get the words out, mouth open but no words obeying his desire to speak, "Ummm... I didn't like- like you and Mikaela-" Primusdammit, it was as if he just _couldn't_ talk anymore, like the words were disappearing into silence before he could find them, "because-" all the words were garbled in his mind, everything he wanted to say melting together into an unspeakable mess. _I want you, I want you, I want you,_ he hated how easily the words could howl and whimper through his mind but refused to be spoken, like he just couldn't talk anymore, "you weren't happy" he finally forced out, not hte words he'd wanted to say, not at all, but damned if he'd ever be able to say them.

"Ah" Sam looked perplexed. "Okay. If you say so."

Bee just lay back on the couch and said nothing. He couldn't have if he'd wanted to anyways. He reached one hand into his jeans pocket, wiggling a little to get the small notebook out of hte pocket. Sam would laugh himself to death if he ever saw it, but Bee had diligently been collecting the human phrases he didnt understand. He wasn't one to make a fool of himself twice on the same word. With an almost bitter glare, he snatched a pen off the table beside him and added another word to the too-long list.

_Tongue-tied: the absolute inability to speak under pressure or stressful circumstances._


	2. Earth-shattering

Lennox's team was never bored. Even when at the shooting range, something bizarre was always happening; such was the nature of having Autobots around.

At the moment, Sideswipe and Ironhide were having a target practice competition. What made it interesting, however, wasn't how they'd rarely ever picked up a human-built gun in their lives, or how their target was ridiculously small and far away, but that Sunstreaker was betting that Ironhide would win, and Jazz was betting on Sideswipe.

"What's your bet?" Lennox asked Epps, standing with the team a safe distance away. Epps thought for a moment.

"Sideswipe."

"Great" Lennox grinned something wicked, and Epps immediately wanted to change his bet.

Meanwhile, Sideswipe was stepping up to the line, borrowed sniper rifle in hand.

"Don't miss." Sunstreaker was purring in Sideswipe's ear, running long fingers along Sideswipe's neck and playing with his dark hair. Sideswipe growled something as he tried to line up the sights on the sniper gun. At the hands of a sniper, the gun would have been perfect for the task, but as it were, Sideswipe was more likely to shoot a hole in the ground than the tin can. The Bots were all used to their own weapon systems. The military's weapons were like taking a step or seventy backwards. "Or maybe you should miss"

"Why's that?" Sideswipe focused in on the aluminum can, yards away.

"Because if I lose my bet," Sunstreaker murmured, voice like satin, as Sideswipe slowly started to squeeze the trigger, "I trade you in for Hide."

"What?!" The bullet shot skywards as Sideswipe whipped around to face Sunstreaker.

Sunstreaker smirked. "Kidding."

Jazz had watched the Bot he'd bet on lose, more impressed than he cared to admit at how effortlessly Sunstreaker had driven Sideswipe to distraction. He'd barely put a finger on Sideswipe.

"Your turn, Hide." Sunstreaker said, as a sulking Sideswipe handed over the gun. Jazz followed as Ironhide stood at the line and lifted the gun to his shoulder. Jazz slipped his arms around Ironhide's waist, nestled against his back. As Ironhide lined up the shot, Jazz started kissing along his neck. The little moaning noises from Ironhide almost distracted Jazz as well. As Ironhide squeezed the trigger, Jazz nipped at his neck. Ironhide yelped and the shot went sideways, but the metallic ping was still heard.

"Yes!" Sunstreaker only got to celebrate for a few moments, though, as Sideswipe put his arms around him from behind, chin on Sunstreaker's shoulder. He whispered something that made Sunstreaker grin and then pull him away by the wrist, no doubt to finish what he'd started.

"You'll pay up later" He shouted over his shoulder to Jazz, who flipped him off.

"Man, when it comes 'ta seduction, those two always win," Jazz grumbled, as money was exchanged between the hands of Lennox's team.

"They've had practice" Ironhide said, shaking his head, "way too much of it." But he stopped, something like concern on his face. "You feelin' okay, Jazzy?"

Jazz nodded, in a silent lie. He wasn't, had no idea why. He'd decided to chalk it up to a chronic lack of recharge and leave it at that.

Even though he knew that no amount of recharge deprivation could leave him so weak and so very unlike himself.

"Fine." Jazz confirmed, even as his deep coughing gave him away entirely.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The human hologram never failed to make Sam's day more interesting. Prime and Ratchet didn't really favor the program, but the others delighted in it. Sam was pretty sure they just like messing with human customs.

Holidays was one they just didn't get.

That morning, Sam had all-but had a heart attack when someone had tackled him from behind.

"Happy Saint Patrick's Day, Sam!" Sideswipe hadn't seemed to have noticed that he'd practically sent Sam to the ground.

"It's January!" Sam had shouted, "You can't just decide a holiday's today!" This had made Sideswipe scowl and now, Sam saw what Sideswipe had stalked off to do.

"You've got to be kidding me." Sam stared at the decorations the rec room was now sporting, "Halloween was ages ago!"

"What?" Ironhide's voice came from the hallway behind him. "Oh, dear Primus." He saw what Sam had been staring at. It looked like the rec room had become a pumpkin patch. The faux-twins, as Ratchet would call them in a dark grumble, had misunderstood the concept of a jack-o-lantern. They seemed to have thought that the pumpkins should resemble the heads of medieval lobotomy patients, complete with knives left stuck in them.

"Have they _always_ been this disturbing?" Sam asked, still wide-eyed in the doorway. He was particularly fascinated by a pumpkin on a table that had six knives stuck in it, the top cut off, and initials carved in it.

"Yeah."

"Hide!" Ironhide got no other warning before Jazz pounced on him from behind. "Whatcha guys lookin' at?"

"I swear to Primus-" Ironhide stumbled a few steps, but Sam could see the smile.

"I'll give you a spark meltdown, I know, I know' Jazz purred in Ironhide's ear, "I'm sorry." He slipped his arms around Ironhide's neck from behind, as Ironhide automatically hoisted Jazz onto his back. Jazz was all-too fond of being carried; Ironhide would complain if he didn't find it so sweet.

"Have you been just _waiting_ to do that?"

"Maybe." Primus, but Ironhide loved how playful Jazz could get. He'd had no idea there was that side to Jazz and he was going to do his absolute best to get at it more often. The thought made him laugh. "What's so funny?" Jazz pressed a kiss to Ironhide's neck.

"You."

"Should I be offended?"

"Naah." Ironhide laughed. "but if you were, you'd still be cute doin' it."

"Thanks" Jazz purred. "So, what's with all the pumpkins?"

"Sides' and Sunny got bored, I guess." Ironhide snickered, "Probably stole all the knives from the cafeteria kitchen. I doubt they'll be happy about that."

"It's kinda disturbing..." Sam poked one of the pumpkins, peering inside the hollowed-out interior. He had no idea where they'd gotten the idea that pumpkins should be piñatas, too, and could only hope there wasn't a bat in this pumpkin's future. "It's not even near Halloween..."

"I'll go break that news to them" Ironhide volunteered, shooting a last look at the horror-movie pumpkin patch and turning to go.

"HOLY SHIT!" Epps had walked out of the adjoining cafe and come face-to-face with a pumpkin suspended from the ceiling, stuck full of knives.

"Like right now."

Ironhide didn't get as far as finding Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, however, because Jazz had started kissing him, and when Jazz asked like _that,_ Ironhide wanted nothing more than to give him what he wanted.

Now, the pumpkin spectacle was long forgotten. Ironhide was sitting on the couch in the living room of the apartment he loosely shared with Jazz. They hadn't gotten as far as the bed. Jazz had his head in Ironhide's lap, one hand dangling by Ironhide's ankle, fingers skimming across his skin.

Sometimes, Ironhide just wanted to say _hell with it all_ and tell Jazz. Sometimes, he got so close that it scared him. He knew it was ridiculous, jeopardizing everything, just to lose it all.

But even so.

Even so, it was getting more and more difficult to tell himself he was just in it for the physical aspects.

Jazz was.

He knew Jazz was, but Jazz was a very different Bot than he was. Sometimes,. Ironhide would have sworn that Jazz cared more than he let on. It was in those moments that he almost confessed it. It was when Jazz was in Ironhide's favorite mood- when he was cuddly and something like sentimental, when he was perfectly happy to spend all morning snuggling in a way Ironhide wouldn't have guessed Jazz would love to do so much- that was when Ironhide almost told him.

"Did you recharge at all last night?" Ironhide ran his fingers through Jazz's dark hair, looking down at the sleeping form sprawled across the couch.

"Ummmm..." Jazz hid a yawn, "totally."

"Liar." He rubbed Jazz's back, and Jazz made a warm purring sound. He knew Jazz had something or other that he worried about at night, something Ironhide didn't ask after and Jazz didn't talk about. "Do you ever relax?"

"Nuh-uh. Relaxin' ain't my thing."

"No kidding. You're just a bundle of nerves..." he shook his head. Jazz didn't elaborate, just made a soft hum of confirmation and dozed off. Maybe it was the way he curled up against Ironhide, maybe it was the hand that slipped up under Ironhide's shirt to rest on the warm skin, Ironhide didn't know what always did it.

But, just like every other time, he didn't say a thing.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Bumblebee hated storms. Not in the terrified sort of way. Rather, he just found them a nuisance. He saw no reason for the sky to darken and split with lines of light, and he had no patience for them.

But when he said so, Sam was right behind him at the window, one hand on Bee's shoulder as Sam looked around him. When Bee said "I hate storms," there was a tremor in his voice from the sheer proximity to Sam. Bee just hoped it wasn't obvious that it was Sam-induced.

"You do?" the sympathy made it evident that Sam thought Bee was confessing some sort of phobia.

"Um..." Bee felt himself blush.

"It's okay, you know. Plenty of people are. Especially when you have to sleep by yourself during one. It's kinda scary."

"Yeah." Bee said in a low voice, head hung. Beyond the window panes, he could see lightening split across the sky.

"You know, my mom used to let me sleep in her bed when I got scared when I was a kid. D'you think..."

"Can I?" Bee couldn't help the timid note. A brief flicker of panic, before it was allayed. Sam smiled. Bee's spark surged.

"'course you can."

Hours later, Bee wanted to be asleep, he really did. But that odd phrase was idly buzzing in his mind. He'd overheard a couple of the soldiers talking, about how something was "earth-shattering."

The Earth couldn't shatter. Nothing could be so significant a blow that the entire Earth could break into pieces like that. And even if it did, no one would be around to say the event had been earth shattering.

Bee decided to shunt it from his mind. He curled up under the covers, and almost flinched when he felt Sam's light touch. Sam had been asleep for some time, unaware that a mix of apprehension and ridiculous confusion had been keeping Bee awake. Bee snuggled up against him and fell asleep to the lullaby of Sam's spark pulses.

Outside, lightening split apart the sky.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Bee woke to Sam's hushed voice and absence.

"Honest. It's not." Sam was saying, somewhere away from the bed. "It couldn't be more not you."

Bee watched from under the covers, as Sam paced, cell phone pressed to his ear. Sam stopped suddenly, and was silent for some time.

"Actually..." the brown eyes were dark with something too-like guilt. "Yeah. I'm sorry..." and then, then he smiled. It might have been twinged with sorrow, but it was a start. "Now you're making me feel bad. You're the greatest, 'Kaela."

Bee pulled a pillow over his head and stopped listening.

"Hey." Sam sat on the side of the bed a few minutes later, nudging Bee gently. Bee peeked out at him.

"May I ask what that was about?"

Sam looked down.

"Mikaela called. Said she overreacted about the spark thing and she's sorry. Asked if we could get back together."

"And?" Bee's spark sunk. It was a slow descent into despair.

"And... well, we can't. It wouldn't... wouldn't be fair to her." He looked out towards the window, "to either of us."

"How come?" Bee asked softly, watching him, watching him and wondering.

"Because." Sam drew in a sharp breath, "I can't love her and never could." It took a heartbeat neither could have of silence before he spoke again, "how could I? I'm gay."

"Oh." So Jazz had been right. Bee hated that he'd never realized. It felt too much like he didn't know Sam as well as he thought he did, but that couldn't be it, couldn't be. It took a few moments for Bee to realize that Sam was staring at him, and was that hurt on Sam's face?

"Please don't tell me you'll hate me now like Miles does." The words made Bee freeze up.

"Is that why he never comes around anymore?"

He really hadn't wanted so much proof towards that terrible theory. He knew Sam, he had to.

"You won't do that, Bee, will you?" That was pain on his face. Bee knew it. "Not you. Please. I couldn't take it if it was you."

"Never, Sam." Bee rushed to collect his thoughts, to at least keep himself from falling apart, "I'll never hurt you like that. I never would." Bee loved the smile this brought to Sam's face.

He _knew_ that smile.

"So that's why you guys broke up?"

"Yeah. That, and-" Sam stood, wandering over to lean against the window, one arm up against the panes, "and I think there's someone else."

"For her?"

"No." Sam didn't turn around, heavy reluctance in his voice. "Not her."

Bee just stared at Sam, all words beyond him. It was like everything was just _gone,_ like every hope he'd almost had was broken, like his whole world had collapsed into pieces because everything he'd depended on, because he thought he _knew_ Sam, none of that was true anymore, everything was falling apart. The whole world was breaking.

After Sam left the room, Bee reached for his notebook on the nightstand.

_Earth-shattering: when something is so shocking, and changes so much that it feels like the whole world is in ruins because of it._


	3. Lost Cause

Bee hadn't lost all hope quite yet.

He kept reminding himself of that, even though it was starting to become more of an emptry string of words than anything else.

 _I can still hope I can still hope I can still hope-_ the words ran together in his mind and blurred into a longing whimper when he saw Sam's smile.

"All the way out here, huh?" Sam was saying to Lennox and Epps.

"Hell yeah, man. It's the coolest!" Epps looked up from his phone with a grin on his face, "I've done it about fifteen times in the past month."

"More like thirty five" Lennox added, looking down from where he was sitting on top of the Jeep. The Jeep they were all gathered around was parked on the sunwashed runway; Sam, Lennox and Epps had been joined by Bee, Ironhide and Jazz in their human holos.

"How can they do that?" Sam asked, looking up, shielding his eyes from the sun with a hand. Bee stood beside him in silence, looking down at the cement of the runway.

"How can who do what?" Ironhide had decided to pay attention, drawing his focus away from Jazz for a moment. Jazz was tossing a water bottle up and down, trying to squirt water from the bottle into the air and catch it in his mouth. Not coincidentally, Ironhide's shirt was wet.

"The pizza guy." Lennox answered, "He can only come as far as the front gate, though."

"Which is why we've got soldiers to boss around!" Epps contributed, "although, admittedly, with some of the pizza-haters, it's a lost cause." He then held the phone up to his ear and started dictating his order.

Bee, meanwhile, was staring at him, silently mouthing  _lost cause_ and turning the phrase over and over in his mind. He couldn't see how a 'cause', something abstract and not tangible in the least, could be lost. How did one lose track of something they couldn't touch?

"They love delivering out here," Lennox said, "it's pretty cool, what people like doing for soldiers. And I swear they get pizza here faster than they do to anywhere else." Sam nodded slowly.

"So its, what, a fast and free service?"

Jazz spit water in a two-foot projectile, then dissolved into gasping laughter. Ironhide just heaved a sigh, slipping an arm around Jazz's convulsing shoulders.

"Do you have any idea what you just said?" He asked calmly, even as his lover nearly collapsed with laughter.

Sam blinked at him.

"What did I just say?"

"Fast- and free-" Jazz snickered, "Service- Swear to Primus, you do  _not_ wanna ask for that-" he looked up to shoot a smirk at Sam, "Because Primus knows you'll get it." Ironhide arched an eyebrow, looking down at Jazz.

"You'd better not be the one giving it out"

"Only to you, babe." Jazz flashed a dazzling smile. "Besides, if I  _was_ givin' it out, it sure wouldn't be free. Or fast." His laughter was broken up by coughing that brought a look of deep concern to Ironhide's face. Bee saw, rather than heard, Ironhide ask Jazz to go see Ratchet, but Jazz shook his head, held onto Ironhide's arm tighter, and said nothing.

Not an hour earlier, Bee had told himself that if Ironhide and Jazz could make it, these two Bots who seemed so different, then surely he and Sam could. But now that Jazz's systems seemed to be shutting down in futile protests, Bee couldn't help but lose hope.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Optimus tended not to use the holo program frequently. It was helpful for video meetings and the like, but overall, he liked the familiarity of his real form. The holo program  _felt_ real- he could project a light-generated image of what the program guessed he would appear as a human, and became, for all intents and purposes, a human. However, It was exceedingly difficult to get used to seeing his comrades looking so different. He forgot to associate the amber-eyed brunette with Bumblebee, Sideswipe as a grey-eyed human that was now a brunette, Sunstreaker a redhead, Ironhide was blue-eyed and Jazz was all lean and tan, and the whole experience made Optimus's processor spin. He'd guessed, before, what the Bots would look like as humans, and had been completely wrong. Bee wasn't blue-eyed, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker weren't near identical, Jazz wasn't blonde. These false forms that tried to stay true to soul had thrown him for a loop.

Optimus was walking through the building that housed the rec room, looking for Lennox to discuss that morning's video conference. He didn't often venture into the building, soon found himself in the wrong hallway, due to a wrong turn. He turned to double back.

" _Don't!"_ The desperate cry made Optimus stop. His processor started whirring at double time, calculating whether this was indicative of something that needed to be stopped, or- " _fuck,_ you know I can't- _aaaah-_   _don't stop don't stop don't stop-"_ That was definitely Sideswipe's voice. Knowing the Bot, Optimus was half scared as to what he'd see if he turned the corner.

He stopped. Thought it over.

There was a thud of something like furniture, and curiosity won out. Optimus crept forward, and glanced through the doorway into the next room.

What he saw about made his spark explode.

Sunstreaker had slammed Sideswipe against the wall and was holding him there, and what was more, he was kissing Sideswipe like it was an attack, and Sideswipe was  _begging_ for it. He was grabbing at Sunstreaker, making no move to resist the aggressive advances, moaning in a way that made it  _absolutely clear_ that there was nothing like protest really involved at all. Sunstreaker had him pinned to the wall, one knee between Sideswipe's legs while Sideswipe gasped and moaned.

And they were  _twins._

 _Holy Primus_ , they were  _twins._

Optimus backed out of the room as silently as he could, and bolted as soon as he was able to.

Less than three minutes later, the fearless leader of the Autobots had burst into the human entrance of the Medbay, close to screaming.

"Dear Primus, what?" Ratchet looked up, mild tone as always. He'd been working on organizing the instruments he had for his human patients.

"They- they-" Optimus straightened, tried to compose himself. He leaned on the table Ratchet had his instruments spread out on, "I think-" He drew in a deep breath, recollecting his thoughts, "I think I have damaged my processor." He didn't miss the smirk that fleeted across Ratchet's face.

"Oh?" He ducked his head and Optimus knew then that he was hiding a definite smirk.

"Yes, in fact. The twins have, ah, rather lost their processors."

"I already know that. They were sparked without functioning processors." Ratchet

sorted through a box. He could hardly be surprised; no matter which of the "twins" they were speaking about, neither pair was truly normal. The 'other twins' (or "little twins", when aggravation was the desired effect) were always Skids and Mudflap. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had been around a lot longer, "twins" referred to them.

"This time, actually, they've truly lost it." Optimus hesitated. "Are they, uh, aware that it's not....  _normal,_ to... uh... with a _brother?"_

"I'm afraid you've lost me."

"I see." Optimus felt absurd, addressing his valued comrade about- well, about  _incest,_ to be perfectly honest. "I'm afraid they have forgotten they're related."

"Is that so?" Another smirk. "Truly, Optimus, I haven't the foggiest as to what you're talking about. What were the twins doing?"

Optimus felt like screaming, " _they were practically screwing each other, for Primus's sake!"_ but that would hardly be becoming for a leader.

"Things that are only suited for lovers to be doing." He finally stated.

Ratchet  _laughed_ at him.

"I'm sorry, Optimus. I- Primus, I'm very sorry. I-" He was having trouble getting his snickering under control, finally succeeded after a few seconds, "I must have never told you."

"Told me what?"

"Well, quite some time ago, I walked in on just the same thing," Ratchet pushed the box aside, offering a very innocent smile to Optimus, "this was recently after both came to join us. I wouldn't have been anything more than mildly surprised, until one mentioned that they were twins. It took me quite a long time- and walking in on another of their rendezvous', and naturally, I had a spark meltdown."

"They've been doing this for that long?" Optimus was wide-eyed, and Ratchet had to fight back more laughter.

"They were  _lying_ about being twins, Optimus. They enjoyed inducing near spark meltdown. They are most certainly  _not_ twins, they're lovers and have been for a  _very_ long time."

"Oh." Optimus managed. He took a full minute before he could regain speech again, "so, well, er, how serious are they? Like... Ironhide and Jazz serious?"

"Oh, no. If there's  _anything_ in life these two are dedicated to, it's each other. They're more than serious."

"Okay..." Optimus was still staring at Ratchet like the medic had informed him that the planet was, in fact, two-dimensional and composed entirely of particles of light. Granted, what he'd shared was nearly as shocking. "Guess I'll… uh… go back to what I was doing then…"

"Okay." Ratchet tried to hide his smirk.

xxxxxxxxxx

Sunstreaker hung up the phone, sliding it across the carpet as best he could. He stayed sitting on the edge of the mattress on the floor, leaned back on his hands to address the form curled up under the comforter. "Optimus thinks we're crazy."

"Shocker." Sideswipe's voice was muffled by the white sheets he was tangled in.

"Guess why." Sunstreaker nudged aside the blankets to rub a hand over Sideswipe's warm back.

"Nnnn."

"What were we doing that he might have seen recently?"

"Um..." Sideswipe batted the comforter away from his face. "We-" A look of shock met with amusement, "Oh, he saw.... oh."

"Yeah." Sunstreaker leaned down, pressing a kiss to the back of Sideswipe's neck. "But wanna know the best part?"

"Hmm?" He moaned as Sunstreaker's touch continued, as Sunstreaker kissed his jaw and neck.

"Optimus still thinks we're actually twins."

"No wonder he thinks we're insane." Sideswipe laughed, "Doesn't think much of us, does he?"

"Guess Ratchet never told him." Sunstreaker crawled back to the center of the bed as Sideswipe reached for him. "Must'a had an absolute spark meltdown." Sideswipe pulled him close and kept him there, and Sunstreaker didn't want to move, not ever.

"Probably jealous" Sideswipe yanked the comforter back up over them, snuggling in tight against Sunstreaker.

"Ratchet said he was surprised we're like this." He looked down at Sideswipe, tangled with him, "so serious and all."

"Serious" Sideswipe scorned and for a moment, Sunstreaker's spark shorted out, "Sounds so juvenile. We're not 'serious,' we just _are."_ Sunstreaker was able to breathe again and Sideswipe traced warm fingertips over his skin, "I dunno, I just think that 'serious' would have been a long time ago, when you still had to, like... say that it's real. We're better than that." Sideswipe didn't get sentimental often, but when he did, Sunstreaker wanted to hold him tight and never let him go. He was saying that what they had meant more than anything else, and Sunstreaker knew Sideswipe had always thought so, but still. Still, they were comforting words to hear.

"What would I be without you..."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Oh,  _look!"_ Sam groaned when he walked into the rec room, stopped short so Bee about ran into him, "It's Christmas!"

"Wasn't it Christmas last month?" Bee blinked big amber eyes at Sam, tilting his head.

"Yeah, Bee. Back in December, that's when the rest of the world celebrates Christmas."

"It's interesting." Ironhide was on the couch, flipping through TV channels so quickly, Sam doubted he caught anything, and Jazz was sprawled across Ironhide's lap. "If out of season." The rec room was decked out in its Christmas finery, pine tree in the corner, mistletoe duct-taped to the walls.

"Oh, Primus, it's  _that_ stuff" Bee recoiled behind Sam, pointing to the mistletoe, as Sam burst out laughing. Bee had had a run-in with mistletoe the previous month; a soldier's visiting sister had practically jumped Bee, and after he'd taken off running, it had taken a while to explain to him that she'd wanted a kiss, not a homicide.

"Calm down," Sam tried not to sound like he was highly amused, "one of these days, you'll have to experience kissing." He wasn't facing Bee, he didn't see the scarlet blush that appeared on his face.

"Yeah, well, not with a psychopathic girl like that."

"Hey" Sunstreaker leaned around the doorway; to his credit, he was only momentarily surprised at the decor, "seen Swipe anywhere?"

"Maybe." Jazz raised himself up on his elbows, fishing around on the floor for something that he then threw at Sunstreaker. "That oughta help."

"Great." Sunstreaker examined the key-ring he'd caught. "What happened to him?" He arched an eyebrow, holding up one, "I  _know_ this is a handcuffs key."

"Weren't you guys fighting this afternoon, anyways?" Ironhide questioned, and Sunstreaker shrugged.

"Nothing serious."

"Nothing serious?" Jazz echoed, "Man, I feared for  _my_ life, and I wasn't even involved!" Sunstreaker mumbled something incoherent and walked out.

Twenty minutes of searching landed him in a hallway he'd rarely seen before, staring down at the door handle of a closet. It had a bow on the handle.

"Figures." He unlocked the door, pulled it open. Sideswipe was sitting on the floor, looked up at him with an expression of mild irritation.

"About time you showed up." His hands were tied up in ribbon before him, and closer inspection revealed that there were handcuffs as well. "Jazz thought you needed to love me up a little after tearing me to pieces this morning."

"You know i didn't mean it." Sunstreaker flicked on the light, pulling the door closed behind him before sinking to his knees before Sideswipe.

"He didn't." Sideswipe grinned, "Good thing he didn't hear what  _I_ said to  _you,_ or we'd both be locked up in closets."

"Gotta admire his enthusiasm." Sunstreaker crawled up before him, pressing a hot kiss to Sideswipe's lips. "I do like seeing you all tied up in ribbons and bows. Just for me."

"Yeah, you  _would_ like seeing me tied up with ribbon. Humans have a word for that."

"Do they." He licked a line down Sideswipe's neck to elicit a moan.

"Uh-huh. It's  _kinky._ And you, Sunny, are a perfect example. Mind untying and unhandcuffing me?" Sunstreaker tucked the keyring into his pocket.

"No."

"Is this closet soundproof?"

Devilish smile.

"No."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Barely half an hour had passed; Ironhide couldn't mark when Jazz started getting irritated, but suddenly, he was harshly insulted when Ironhide asked what had induced the sudden flare of temper.

He'd been tense all day and hadn't been entirely himself. Of course. Ironhide had assumed it meant Jazz was just in a touchy mood, but he'd bee using standards for everyone else. For Jazz, of course it meant he was about to have a total emotional meltdown.

"Fuck, Hide. I  _do_ have feelings, you know." Jazz was exceptionally artful at throwing a fit; he made it look like, somehow, the explosion of emotion was beautiful.

"You said I shouldn't! You said-" Ironhide fell silent. "Okay, so you said not to worry about but, but-" that morning, Ironhide had asked if Jazz minded if he- what? Ironhide couldn't even  _remember_ anymore, he vaguely recalled volunteering to repair something, and requesting the help of Sunstreaker and not Jazz, merely because Jazz wasn't much good at repairs. And Jazz had given him a very snappish "don't worry about it," when Ironhide had asked if Jazz was offended.

"But since  _when_ has that  _ever_ meant you should not worry?" Jazz had stalked across the room, pausing at the doorway, "where have you been for the past million years? If someone says 'oh, don't worry about me' they never, never  _never_ mean it! It means they're too fuckin' pissed for words and don't even wanna  _talk_ to ya anymore!"

"Oh." Ironhide couldn't quite wrap his processor around it- he had been  _positive_ that Jazz wouldn't mind. It was perfectly logical- Jazz didn't even  _like_ that kind of job, and it wasn't like he had any reason to think Ironhide was going after someone else, (how ridiculous would that be, Ironhide thought for a moment, trying to get Sunstreaker away from Sideswipe? And how  _impossible,_ that he would want someone who wasn't Jazz?) and it wasn't anything serious. Ironhide knew Jazz shouldn't have cared- it wasn't even the first time such a situation had arisen.

" _Yeah,_ oh." Jazz snapped back, "Just don't." He'd stalked out before Ironhide could try any more words to fix anything.

Sam and Bee were in the adjoining room, shamelessly eavesdropping. When Sam glanced over at Bee, Bee was staring at the ground.

"Do they normally fight?" Sam whispered, "like, y'know, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker?" Bee turned amber eyes to him, and slowly shook his head no.

"Never." He breathed, "Ironhide and Jazz? Primus, no. They've never fought. Not like that."

"Think they can make it?"

Sam didn't know that he was echoing Bee's very thoughts.

But he realized that when Bee didn't answer, that was an answer in and of itself.

Later that evening, they were watching a movie Sam knew by heart and Bee knew by recorded memory.

"Wow" Sam was staring at the screen, sprawled across the other half of the couch from where Bee was, and Bee turned to look at what Sam was referring to. Onscreen, a handsome blonde firefighter was stripping off a charred shirt. "I want that."

"Yeah?" Bee eyed the screen, biting his lip hard.

"Mmm-hmm."

Bee absently ran a hand through his hair; he could see how devastatingly dark it was.

"Maybe you will someday." It felt like everything he had been holding onto was torn away, and he couldn't find it anymore, couldn't remember what they were the moment they left his grasping fingertips. Everything he was counting on-  _gone gone gone-_ and he didn't know what it was anymore, and if he'd lost everything he was counting on, what was left?

How was it  _fair,_ that Bee could love Sam  _this much,_ and that, even so, nothing would ever come of it? He didn't know if it was this planet's forces of fairness, or of it was this devastating the galaxy over, but somehow, Bee doubted the existence somewhere where he could escape from the crushing defeat. That world- before he'd been faced with all the blatant disinterest, back when he'd had that sliver of a window through which he could almost  _see_ his life as he wished it was, as he  _needed it to be-_ that world was lost.

As Sam watched the firefighter, Bee drew his notebook from his pocket, scrawling down on it in the dark.

_Lost cause: something that has absolutely no hope, like every hope you could have has been lost, like it never existed at all or cannot be found again._

 

 


	4. Mind-blowing

"So, uh...." Sideswipe wasn't one for treading lightly, Ironhide had time and time again noticed. Sideswipe was sitting on top of a steel box, watching Ironhide turn the storage room upside down in search of a particular-sized wrench. "how was that thing you were gonna do with Sunny?" Ironhide opened one of the storage boxes, sifted through it.

"Finished it in an hour."

"So... why...." Sideswipe kicked his heels against the side of the box, watching Ironhide, "why exactly was Jazz flipping out like you were trying to, uh, I don't know, trade up for Sunny or something?"

"Trade up?" Ironhide echoed.

"Personal preference."

"He's all yours, Swipe. I honestly don't know why Jazz was overreacting." Ironhide slammed the top of the box down, "Maybe I messed up somewhere else. I don't know what I did, he won't tell me, and-"

"And you're going to give up on him? Because if you say that, I swear, Hide, I won't be the only one intent on kicking your aft." Before he could detail on the threat, Ironhide threw a screwdriver in his direction. Sideswipe yelped and ducked. "You could have killed me!"

"I'm not giving up on Jazz, okay? I don't want to. I can't stand that I've done something to make him this mad, that doesn't mean I want to end it all entirely. He means too much to me to do something that stupid."

"Okay." Sideswipe studied him too intently for Ironhide not to worry, "Does that mean what I think it does?"

"Probably not, seeing as you're shorted-out in the processor." Ironhide rolled his eyes as Sideswipe growled in protest.

"Come on, Hide. I'm not completely useless in this respect."

That was something Ironhide couldn't dispute; if there was one single, solitary subject in the universe that Sideswipe could give out good advice on, it was relationships. Ironhide had always thought that if Sideswipe and SUnstreaker could make their relationship work, no one else had any excuse to give up and quit on their own.

"Fine, fine. What were you gonna say?"

"What do you guys have?"

The question was so simple, so basic, and so painfully essential that Ironhide didn't want to even consider it.

"Hide. This is important."

"I know." He poked through an abandoned pile of tools, "it's not what you and Sunny have, that's for sure. We're just... it's not that meaningful."

"Okay." Sideswipe leaned back on his hands, continuing to study Ironhide, "so that's what Jazz thinks of it. What about you?"

"That is what I think of it!"

"Sure, Hide. It's a just-sex relationship, and you're worried about hurting his feelings."

"So?" How Ironhide wanted to dismiss Sideswipe as nonsensical, but he couldn't, much as he wanted to, wanted to because it was easier than admitting he was right, he  _couldn't._ "You're right, okay? That's exactly what's going on. It started out as just that beacuse, hell, he's  _good_ at it, and no one can say no to Jazz like that. He's the hottest thing on any planet, so of course I wanted this. I'm not gonna jeapordize what little we've got just because I want him to know I love him, but I can't help caring about him. So that's the whole damn thing, okay? It's messed up as hell and we both want different things, but you know what?" He fought to keep his voice away from a shout, "It's all I've got."

Outside the building, Sam looked up from his textbook, and Bee audibly groaned when he did.

"I swear I heard something this time!" Sam raised himself up on his elbows on the backseat. The Camaro engine revved, and Bee, holo-form, leaned over from the front seat.

"That's the fifth time you've stopped studying in six minutes and thirty-seven seconds, Sam."

"I heard a door slam!"

"A common occurrence."

"Even so." Sam had an audible pout in his voice and he flopped back down on the seat and adjusted his textbook. "It could have been important."

"You said that the last four times, too, Sam. If you don't study this, you're going to wish you did."

"Yeah? How?" Sam twisted on the seat to look over at Bee. Bee felt the heat of a blush as Sam's attention focused just on him.

"Well, if you were speaking with the president as the Autobot's Ambassador, and you asked him to ratify the treaty, I doubt he'd think very highly of you."

"Why wouldn't he?" The bewildered look on Sam's face was so adorable, Bee's spark melted and twisted.

"The Senate ratifies treaties, Sam. Not the president."

"Oh, right. I knew that."

"Sure you did-" Bee broke off his sentence, coughing hard into his hands. Sam's gaze darkened.

"I thought you said Bots don't get sick."

They didn't. They couldn't.

"It's not unheard of." Bee averted his gaze, sinking back into the passenger seat. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not." Sam shut his textbook, leaning over the seat to look straight at Bee, "what's wrong? You've never been sick, not in all the years I've known you. And you said so yourself, Bots  _can't_ get sick, not like humans do. So that has to mean it's  _serious_ when you do!"

"Sam..." Bee's protests fell victim to deep coughs again, and Sam bit his lip.

"That's the nineteenth time you've done that in the past half hour."

"You've..." Bee blinked amber eyes at him, "you've been counting?"

"At risk of sounding obsessive, yeah. I have. Because I'm  _worried_ about you, don't you get that? I'm really worried because I don't know what's going on. What?" He scrutinized the perplexed look on Bee's face, couldn't explain it, "Why do you look so surprised?"

"I just- just-" Bee sunk further down, looking up at Sam with wide eyes, "I don't know. Just..." he cycled a hand in the air as if to demonstrate, and couldn't, "never had anyone... y'know?"

Sam looked more crushed than Bee could imagine the reason for.

"I care. I've always cared. Didn't you know that?" Bee just looked at him, lost as for what to do, and Sam just sounded more hurt with every word, "Bee, it's.... it's just... mind-blowing, that you could have no idea."

Mind-blowing. Bee repeated the word in his mind, puncuated by his coughing. Mind-blowing? It was a medical impossibility. Granted, he knew that, given an injury to the skull, the brain could have too much pressure put on it- but that wasn't quite what Sam meant.

"Look, Bee..." Sam moved away, leaning against the driver's seat, "you... need to understand that I care. About you. I thought you knew that. Could tell, or something..." He ran a hand through his mess of curls, sighing.

The pain was so apparent on his face, marring all his happiness, turning it skittish and leaving not a trace. And- Bee couldn't wrap his mind around it, it was like every last conception he'd had had been thrust from his mind, like there was nothing left to think- because  _he had hurt Sam._ All the pain on Sam's face was Bee's fault, solely and entirely, and not only could he have made it better, but he could have prevented it entirely.

The realization was too much a shock for Bee to fully comprehend, as guilt started sending tendrils through him, freezing and contracting, the cringe-inducing regret wiping away anything else in the world.

"Sam..." Bee drew in a breath, as Sam picked up his textbook and started to leave, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Sam stood out on the cement outside, facing away from the Camaro, "how could you have known?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Michael was starting to get scared.

He'd flashed his ID to get clearance past the first gate, exchanging greetings with the guardsman he was acquainted with, and was now standing outside his car, waiting for the second gate to open.

And he'd heard something move.

It wasn't the soldier coming to pick up, either. Nick knew that drill. He'd arrive, come up to the second of multiple gates, and wait for a soldier to show up to take the pizzas from him. The soldier was either a willing volunteer, the type that snuck a piece before taking the pizzas back to the base, or a surly designated delivery boy, who had no interest in the food, but had been present at the exact moment Epps needed someone to run and get the pizzas for him.

Never, though, had he heard sound from behind the concrete wall that flanked the road.

"Uh..... hello?"

No answer. Michael took a step towards the low wall. "Anyone there?"

Still no answer. Michael retreated back to his car and started mentally chanting his list of reasons why he kept his job.

He got to drive around all day; that meant listening to CD's and becoming so familiar with the city, he could use his navigation skills as a parlor trick at parties and was useful on car trips around the big city.

His girlfriend liked the uniform; something about the cap and polo shirt, she said, coupled with the fact that he was working through college, and some combination of those effects got him kisses.

Discounted pizza; always a plus.

He was trying to remember reason four to convince himself not to run away screaming, when he heard something that sounded distinctly like a footstep.

"YOU!" He'd been shoved against the car door less than a second later, strong hands holding his arms behind his back.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He was seconds from convulsing into sobs when he heard laughter.

"What the hell are you doing, Swipe?" A voice came from behind them. The man holding Michael to the car made a little exasperated groan.

"Teaching him to be more aware, what's it look like? If he can't defend himself against pizza hi-jacking, what'll happen when he gets attacked by bandits?"

"Bandits?" The other voice scoffed. Michael stared down at the top of the car, praying that the pick-up soldier would be along soon. "Been watching westerns with Jazz?"

"No." Michael's attacker- well, Michael reasoned, not  _attacker,_ but.. something between a captor and an attacker- sounded like he was pouting. "We were actually watching a soap opera."

"Thanks for inviting me."

"I didn't want to offset some hormonal imbalance."

"What the hell does that mean?!"

"Come  _on,_ Sunny." He moved slightly, and Michael caught part of his reflection in the side mirror; he could only see tan skin and toned arms. "You  _cry_ every time something dramatic happens. They're just shows, for Primus's sake."

"So?" The other one was definitely sulking, "At least  _I'm_ not the one that cried  _nine times_ during that romance movie!"

"I swear, Sunny, when I get my hands on you-"

"You'll what? Fuck me into the wall?" Michael heard laughter, and his captor's angry growl.

" _Yes,_ and  _then,_ I'm going to  _murder_ you!"

"Well, get on with whatever it is you're doing, I wanna get to the wall part."

"Whatever." He reached over and snagged one of the smaller pizza boxes through the open window. Having claimed their prize, he released Michael. "Good luck explaining to Epps, kid." Michael stared as the attractive brunette stole the pizza and walked back into the base, followed by an equally gorgeous redhead. The redhead something as he wandered along behind, and the brunette snapped his teeth at him.

Michael was still standing frozen to the spot when a soldier walked through the gate. "Hey, Michael. You... uh... you okay?"

Michael blinked up at Morrey, who was one of the frequent volunteers, "I just, uh, there- there was this- this- dude, who, um, just-" but Morrey just laughed.

"Oh, no big deal. Two hot guys, right? I saw 'em." Morrey picked up the boxes, handed Michael the due cash, "I'll explain to Epps."

"Kind of... um... intimidating, aren't they?"

"Oh, yeah." Morrey grinned, blue eyes bright, "word of advice, never try and hit on either one. Bad, bad things happen. Anyways, thanks! See ya next time." He grinned and walked away.

Michael carefully checked the area around his car before darting back inside and driving away as fast as he dared.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He'd been avoiding the conversation for as long as possible, but some things were inevitable.

Ironhide caught Jazz outside the medbay, catching onto the holo's arm and feeling cold skin.

"What's going on, Jazz?" The stern look he fixed Jazz with faded to concern at the way Jazz bit his lip and said nothing. "I'm just... worried."

Jazz stared at the ground.

Ironhide dreaded it when Jazz suddenly fell silent like that. The Bot alternated between being an unstoppable chatterbox and being thoughtfully quiet, but whenever he slammed from one state straight into the other, something was wrong. Ironhide didn't want anything to be wrong, desperately wanted everything to work out for them, even when nothing could, even when it was anything but mutual.

"There's something I have to tell you." From silence, he fell into a sudden rush of words, "I know it wasn't supposed to be anything serious. I do know that, but I just- I just feel like I'm lying to you, and I know why we haven't gone farther, and I know why it'll never work, and I  _know_ all that, and- and I don't want to  _lie_ to you anymore!"

Ironhide was speechless, but at least he knew by now how not to scare Jazz to death. Whatever it was that Jazz was trying to say, it was being forced out of him by some sense of obligation, guilt or shame or some mixture of the two choking him until he could barely speak. Ironhide slipped his arms around Jazz, waiting, not knowing, waiting.

"I'm sorry" Jazz clung, head on Ironhide's shoulder, hands fisting in Ironhide's shirt like he was scared of letting go. "But I'm one of those Bots that-that about dies if I can't bond with my Sparkmate."

If Ironhide had an actual heart, he swore it would have stopped beating, as his spark skipped a pulse, as everything in their world froze on that breath, the past dying into a muted existence, the future fading into the clarity only nonexistence could possess.

"Jazz..."

"I should have told you" Jazz's voice was barely more than a morose whisper. "Primus, I'm so sorry... but... but... I have to, I  _have_ to be with... with my Sparkmate..."

Ironhide bit his lip, tried to forget that this would be the last time he could hold Jazz, no longer his, no longer there, "And it's not me?"

xxxxxxx

Bee could barely see the paper before him, in the dark of the room. Sam had long ago disappeared, and hadn't said a word to Bee since that afternoon; Bee's sensors picked up on his heartbeat's rhythmic lullaby from the bedroom, but save for that, Sam was barely there.

Bee had never hurt Sam before.

_Mind-blowing: when something is so utterly shocking, such as a realization that is so unforeseen that it comes as a staggering blow, has the power to erase all other thought, until all that is left is that one, world-changing concept._

 

 


	5. My Heart Belongs To You

Sam had been trying to ask his question for the past hour; he had yet to. Ratchet finally stopped what he was doing and turned to face Sam, who was sitting on top of a table, fidgeting.

"Sam, would you like to say something?"

"Me?" Sam nearly yelped. "Um, what makes you think I would?"

"Would you like a comprehensive list of telltale signs?"

Sam winced. "Not really. I guess I do have a quesiton."

"Yes?"

"I'm worried about Bee. That's what it is. Im' worried the hell out of my mind!"

"I have not recently seen him" Concern hung in his tone. "Why are you worried?"

"Can Bots get sick?"

The answer was not forthcoming enough to comfort Sam.

"Only under extreme circumstances."

"Extreme?"

"Maybe if you explained what has you so concerned? It could very well be nothing." Sam nodded, then rattled off the list all in one breath; he'd obsessed over it enough to have memorized it.

"I see" Ratchet said, once he'd finished. "Jazz recently complained of the same."

"And?" Sam still couldn't be calm. Not with Bee coughing and exhausted, not with him being lethargic and unresponsive, not with how he looked like he'd contracted some terribly fatal illness.

"I'm not sure what to do yet, to be perfectly honest. For the time being, the condition is not worsening." Ratchet explained, "As soon as I can find out what's wrong, I'm sure I can fix it. I'm fairly certain I know what's wrong, I just need to make sure."

"Okay.."

"Honestly, Sam. If it's what I think it is, all it takes is time. I believe it has to do with sparkmates, but I can't be sure."

Sam wasn't comforted, but half a promise was better than a complete lack of hope. Sam decided to go back to his apartment, and snag Bee on the way.

Bee was less than willing. "I'm fine." Sam's frown deepened when Bee coughed again. "Fine. I'll come." He let Sam drag him out of the engineering building, putting up no resistance, and not, Sam knew, because he was willing; it was merely beacuse he didn't have the strength. "Where were you, anyways?" Bee coughed, voice sounding more hoarse than even hours ago.

"Talking to Ratchet." He continued towing Bee towards the apartment building, "and this time, I don't care what you say, you  _need_ sleep."

In his single-minded state, Sam didn't notice the two human holos in the alleyway they passed. Neither did the two bots on the third floor in one of the buildings.

Sunstreaker was looking at the red balloon in his hands, skepticism on his face.

"And... uh... throwing water balloons out a window is...well... why?"

"Chinese New Year." Sideswipe answered matter-of-factly, pushing the window up, "it's for good luck."

"And we need luck why?" Sunstreaker couldn't help the nervous note to his tone. Maybe insecurity was ingrained in his personality, maybe it was a wiring flaw, but he couldn't help but give in each and every time, if only for a sparkbeat. "Swipe..."

"We-ell..." Sideswipe locked the window into place, "I may have been the one that hung all Ratchet's wrenches from the ceiling. With any luck, he'll never find out it was me."

Before Sunstreaker oculd reply, however, he recognized the voice that came from the alleyway below, and kept his silence. He beckoned Sideswipe to the open window.

"...and it's not me?" Ironhide's voice, more serious than either could imagine the reason for. The heartbreak was terribly tangible. Sunstreaker felt Sideswipe reach for him, hold him tight.

"Hide..." Jazz's voice made clear a heavy reluctance, "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry... if there was any other way, I'd do it, I swear I would, but it could-"

"I know. It could kill you, couldn't it?" Jazz made a pitiful noise of agreement.

"And I'm sorry."

For a moment, Sunstreaker coulddn't figure out what was going on, couldn't figure out what was ending, what was at stake, what was endangering whom.

"It's okay." Ironhide- Sunstreaker couldn't quite believe it; he knew Jazz could get incredibly emotional, but  _Ironhide..._ it sounded like he was about to cry. "I just hate to lose you. I love you."

It was then that Sunstreaker truly had no clue what was going on.

Jazz had gone completely silent. Ironhide was fighting tears, but Jazz was frozen.

"Hide" he managed to choke out, "It's not.. I don't think it's what you think it is."

"What, then?" That flicker of hope was beautiful, wholly, heartbreakingly beautiful.

"I.... I..." Jazz looked up at Ironhide, voice filled with confusion. "You love me?" So he really hadn't known, Sunstreaker thought. It had been obvious to everyone else, just how devoted Ironhide was to Jazz, but, apparantly, not to Jazz himself.

"Of course." Ironhide didn't look at him. "I love you. But... but there's no way I'd let you die beacuse you need to be and want to be with someone else."

The smile Jazz gave him was like the Cybertronian sunrise, stunning a long-dark world with its forgotten brilliance.

He truly was the last link Ironhide had to home.

"It's not someone else." Jazz's voice was barely audible, merely a breath of wonderment, "It's you, Hide. I just thought you wouldn't want it to be."

"You see?" Sideswipe breathed, nuzzling against him, "already brought good luck. Imagine what Valentines Day could bring about, if all that luck comes out of a Chinese New Year. Let's have another one tomorrow." Sunstreaker smiled.

"You really don't understand holidays, do you?" He pulled Sideswipe in and kissed his

holiday-confused sparkmate.

"They're confusing, it's not just me."

"Know what?" Sunstreaker murmured, as Sideswipe kissed his neck, "you're better than any holiday."

Xxxxxxxxx

Michael had discovered a very serious flaw in the military base's system of checking in guests. He'd had his paperwork checked out, visitor's badge authorized, escort waiting just beyond the gate; he was deemed unthreatening to the base.

However, at no point did they stop to consider whether certain people on the  _base_ would be a threat to  _him._

He crept away from the visitors lot, checking around behind him and to over side so often, he nearly ran straight into a parked car. Regardless of the blow to his ego, he had yet to be jumped by any lurking soldiers. Michael's grip on the pizza box tightened, knuckles white. Maybe they weren't soldiers; he hadn't seen uniforms, after all, and if that were the case, he wasn't quite sure who they were. Morrey had seemed okay with them, though, so Michael supposed he hadn't stumbled upon intruders, but- but even so, he was still glancing around like he was expecting a sneak attack.

"Michael!"  
"YEEAAAUUGGHHH!" Michael nearly dropped the pizza boxes, but someone swooped in and plucked them from his grasp before he could. "Oh… hi." He gave a weak smile to Epps.

"Glad ya could make it, Michael." He led Michael through the parking lot, flashing a badge at the guard waiting at the exit.

"Thanks for inviting me. Not every day people throw a 'we love our pizza delivery guy' party."

"Thought you deserved it, coming all the way out here and putting up with security clearances."

Michael was able to relax after a while; his two fears weren't among the soldiers in the room, and were, in fact, nowhere in sight. That was why, he supposed, he let his guard down. He was watching a game of quarters-with-soda (and losing the bet he'd put on it) when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"You." The guy behind him was the type Michael wouldn't ever, ever want to provoke into a fight. He'd learned once or twice that lean and lithe didn't mean "weakling," not with muscles like that. The brunette examined him too-closely. "You're that kid."

"Uh…"

"Don't tell me you're using  _him_ to cheat on me." An equally intimidating redhead sidled up behind the brunette. "I should hope you'd do better than this."

"Are you calling me something bad?" Michael piped up, earning himself a glower from the brunette.

"Let's clarify. I'm calling you annoying. He's calling you not worth the trouble. We can keep on calling you things, if you want, but I think you get the gist." He smiled, slow, thoughtful, "or we can show you in other ways."

Michael didn't even want to  _think_ about what he meant.

"Save that creativity for someone who deserves it, Swipe." The redhead shook his head.

"Yeah? Like who?" The redhead smirked, leaned over to hiss in his ear.

"Me," he practically purred, "you never did do what you promised me."

"I can take care of that." The brunette turned, "I see a wall right there." The redhead grinned, then slipped away through the crowd of people. The brunette paused to look back at Michael. "Don't think you're safe. I find terrorizing humans a  _great_ use of my time."

He was gone before Michael could question what  _else_ he terrorized, besides humans.

No matter what his answer would have been, Michael wasn't sure he even  _wanted_ to know.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Sam heard the footsteps at the kitchen door, and didn't even have to turn around.

"Go to sleep."

"Now you're  _definitely_ trying to get rid of me." Bee grinned, leaning against the doorway to the kitchen. Sam was poking around in the refrigerator, finding nothing. "I've only  _just_ got back from being at engineering  _all day_ , and you're already trying to send me off again?"

"All part of my evil plan to frame wrench-stealing from Ratchet on you" Sam leaned around the door to smile in an alarmingly innocent manner, "I figure that if you're handcuffed to the medbay, he's gonna have to suspect you."

"Sideswipe already tried that one, actually. Tried to get him to think that the military police left me there after catching me red-handed. Somehow, Ratchet wasn't convinced."

"Where'd he get the handcuffs from?"

"Uh…" Bee blushed scarlet, "they weren't exactly… uh…" he coughed, "military-issue handcuffs?"

"Pink and fuzzy?" Sam snorted with laughter, as Bee reddened even more.

"No, more like… well… there was two cuffs and instead of a chain… a pole. So he handcuffed my hands behind my back… around a pole."

"Yeah, I can see why Ratchet wouldn't believe the police would leave the criminal like… uh… that."

"Yeah." Bee coughed again. "The not-twins were the top of his list of suspects."

"Heard he terrorized the pizza guy again yesterday."

"Typical."

Sam watched him for a moment in silence as Bee kept coughing.

"Bee, you need to sleep. Just listen to me and do it."

"Recharge" Bee piped up.

"Whatever. Just get your ass in bed and sleep."

"But  _Sam..."_

"Am I gonna have to drag you there myself? I  _know_ you only slept like,  _one_ hour last night." Before Bee could reply, Sam had scooped him up and all-but tossed Bee over his shoulder. Bee whined and protested, but Sam wasn't about to let him go. After depositing Bee on his bed, Sam waited as Bee curled up under the covers. "Can I ask you something real quick?" Bee nodded, amber eyes on him. "What's a sparkmate?" Sam sat on the edge of the bed.

"Random question." he sounded so weak, it broke Sam's heart.

"Yeah, well."

"It's like soulmates." Bee's voice was hoarse. "Sparks need their opposites. Some Bots don't  _need_ their sparkmate, but some- some, their Sparks will disintegrate if it never bonds with its other half."

"You can die if you aren't with your sparkmate?" The Bots' universe was too black-and-white for Sam's taste. That something could be so guided by technological logistics made everything seem so ultimate, as if even love had to taste of the ultimatum.

"Some Bots can" Bee coughed again, "Two bots, a whole Spark. Sometimes it's split up unevenly. One gets the stronger half. One doesn't. If they never bond... the weaker one can't make it on its own."

"But..." Sam bit his lip, "Ratchet said it's happening to you too."

The amber-eyed gaze darkened with something Sam couldn't recognize.

"Sam, I..."

"Tell me who it is, Bee. Please." Sam drew in a shaky breath, "I'll find them for you or anything-"

"Sam."

"This can't happen to you. It can't. Can't that be made better? Or-"

"Sam."

"If they could just let you go-"

"Sam."

"Unless your heart really belongs to them? Your spark?" Confusion filled the amber eyes.

"You can't own someone else's heart." Bee stated simply, "There's no way to establish ownership of an organ. I mean, you could tattoo your name on it, but that would severely damage the organ, not to mention risking an infection… although it would likely be fatal. And no one would see it, so you'd have no proof. Unless there's a contract, but that seems like black-market trafficking-"

"That's..." Sam shook his head, "that's not what that means. It's nothing to do with, uh, the black market or organ trafficking, or tattooing or whatever. That's beside the point."

"Is it like being an organ donor? I don't think I can be. Bots don't do that kind of thing."

"Bee..."

"Oh, wait." Bee tilted his head slightly, "Is it only for type O blood?"

"Uh, no." Sam wasn't sure he'd ever be able to follow Bee's train of thought. It was nowhere near linear; he suspected that while, on occasion, A did indeed lead to B, that A could also lead to W  _and_  83, just because that was how Bee's processor worked. Trying to understand would give Sam a headache. "It's sort of... more abstract than that."

"Oh." Bee was silent for a while, then looked up at Sam, "when you said there was someone else, what did you mean?"

"It doesn't matter now."

"Yes it does."

"No, Bee. It doesn't."

"It does" Bee tried to stress the words, ended up coughing himself breathless instead, "It has to" he finished softly, barely any voice to his words. "Sam."

"It can't matter, okay? It doesn't and it can't, no matter what. Got that?" Sam sucked in a breath, inwardly cringing when he saw how crushed Bee looked, "Bee, you've got a pre-destined soulmate. It doesn't matter who I want, wanting someone can't measure up to needing someone." It was the difference between want and need. Where they overlapped, that was where guilt froze the emotions over. There was no overlap, not anymore, the overlap was too frozen over, sending Bee careening into want or need, never both, never neither. What he wouldn't give- he just wanted a definitive answer. Wanted to know, needed to know, what the right thing to do was. It was how Jazz had felt, and now, if Sam could have understood what Bee's silence was telling him, he would have known that Bee felt the same.

"They have to be equal" Bee managed to say, "you can't just want someone or just need someone. Otherwise it'll be all subjective or all dependency. It has to be both."

"Fine. Fine. Doesn't make a difference, you know that?" Sam looked down, "not in this case, though, because if you're not with your sparkmate, you'll die. You literally  _have_ to be with- with your sparkmate"

 _With my sparkmate,_ Bee thought, watching Sam silently,  _even if there was someone else, how could I be with them and not you?_ It didn't feel even remotely possible, that he could ever fall in love with anyone else. To give his spark over to them entirely would be impossible, would be a betrayal of himself, of everything that he was, everything that he felt. He could never be anyone's but Sam's; it was like the sense of  _being Sam's_ was ingrained into his spark, and he felt with everything that he was that there was no one in any world for him but Sam.

Bee didn't allow himself to think; he closed the gap between them and kissed his sparkmate.

When they'd parted a sparkbeat later, Sam stared at him for a moment, the sweet taste still on both's lips.

"Please, Bee" Sam whispered, "Please, please, please say it's me."

Bee had never imagined that it would come to this. He couldn't form a reply, as Sam pulled him close, waiting, embrace tight. Bee turned his face into Sam's neck, breathed in.

"It's you."

He'd never imagined Sam would  _want_ to hear that truth.

Sam hugged him tighter, kissing him gently.

"I never wanted you to be my 'someone else,' you know" he murmured, "I always wanted you to be more than that." He cuddled Bee close for a moment, then nudged him back under the blankets, "you still need to sleep."

"Recharge." Bee argued, tugging Sam's sleeve until Sam got the hint and crawled under the blankets next to him. Bee curled up against him, as Sam turned off the light. Before snuggling against Sam to sleep, though, Bee reached for his notebook on the nightstand.

_My heart belongs to you: (spark) when all you want to be is theirs, when they're your entire world. He can make everything better just by being there._

"What're you doing?" Sam nudged Bee gently. Bee tossed the notepad back to the nightstand, blushing crimson in the darkness. "Bumblebeeeee…"

"Just…" Bee turned his face into Sam's chest, "I keep a list."

"A list of what?"

"Phrases," Bee mumbled, "of what humans say. They… kinda confuse me."

"Oh." Sam was hiding a laugh. Bee felt something clench inside of him, something like a dark sense of embarassment.

"That's why I didn't tell you." He blinked back tears, "all the bots would make fun of me about it, and I didn't want… you to…"

"Bee…" Sam tilted his chin up, pressed a soft kiss to his lips, "I think it's the cutest thing ever. I'm not being mean." He cuddled Bee close, "I love you. I'm gonna tease you because I can' t get over how cute you are, but I'm not gonna make fun of you."

"And I thought I loved you five minutes ago," Bee smiled, "I love you even more now."

"Now you're getting it. If you're ever confused, I'll help you out. Remember that." When they'd first arrived on the planet, Bee had thought he would be lost forever.

Held safe in his sparkmate's arms, Bee finally felt like the confused wandering was over, like he'd found the place where everything made sense and everything felt right.

Now, this planet could start to feel like home.

 


End file.
